The Professor and The Apprentice
by CeliaEquus
Summary: A challenge fic! My first one, come to that. Proud of me? This is my response to the "Five Chapters" challenge. Enjoy!  Usual disclaimers apply.
1. November

"November"

It was the third month of the school year, and another Quidditch match had just finished that afternoon. After taking care of the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams (and fans) with Madame Pomfrey, Hermione Granger went to the library for a break. There were books in the Hogwarts library that couldn't be found in any other wizarding library in Britain, including medical textbooks. This was part of the reason she had been so pleased to be doing her apprenticeship at her old school.

There was her other reason, on the other side of the library, conveniently seated right near the medical texts. Hermione smiled, blushing, and made her way quietly to the shelves; not that it would matter. He always heard her.

"Evening, Granger."

"Hello, Professor Moody. How's your day been?"

"Huh. You're the one who's run off your feet, and you ask me how _I've_ been."

"It's the nice thing to do," she said, pulling down a book on the proper way to administer herbs to someone suffering from dragon pox. Only in the wizarding world would there be a four hundred page book on something that specific.

Alastor raised an eyebrow as she sat across from him at the small table. It was times like this when he wanted to curse Albus Dumbledore for giving him this job again. Once the war was over and done with, the former Auror had taken time to recuperate, and even became a 'victim'—i.e. guinea pig—for some of St. Mungo's trials. While no one could regrow an eye, they developed a spell for regrowing other limbs. With his own leg, he no longer limped, so he was able to discard the walking stick.

He didn't mind having to keep his magical eye. It was damned useful, particularly as a teacher. But even after much other R&R he had, and no matter how much younger everyone else thought he looked, he always felt older around Poppy's apprentice.

"You're staring at me, Professor."

"I've told you before to use my first name."

"You're staring at me, _Alastor_."

He smirked, but quickly hid it behind his own book. "It's getting on to winter. What're you doing for Christmas?"

"I'll be staying here," she said softly, and he lowered the book again. "Harry and Ron are on Auror training, and they're still a little peeved that I didn't join them. I'm tired of fighting the bad people. I'd much rather be doing the equally important work of helping the victims. N-not that being an Auror isn't important," she added, remembering that Alastor used to be an Auror. "And, of course, no one could ever be better than you were—are. I mean…"

"It's fine, Granger. You don't have to worry about my 'delicate sensibilities'. You should know by now that I haven't got any."

"And I've told _you_ before to use my first name."

"So you're not with your friends because you're a Healing apprentice, _Hermione_?"

"That, and they're on assignment. At least, that's what they told me. And my parents… well, you know they died in that car crash last year." He nodded. "So I'm staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. What about you?"

"What do _you_ think? I'm staying as well. No family. My friends are here."

"Well, at least we'll be together, won't we?"

"In the same building, yes," he said, misunderstanding her. Her hesitant smile faltered.

"Of course."

He frowned at her reply, and tried to think of something to say. "Uh… Gr-Hermione."

"Yes, Alastor?"

"Wanna play a round of chess in the staff room? Or scrabble. Your choice."

Slowly, Hermione looked up from behind her book, and smiled at him. Alastor couldn't help thinking that it was one of the nicest things he had ever seen. Course, he already knew she was pretty, and scoffed at any fool who said otherwise. But this… this was something different.

This was something better.

"Yes, I'd like that," she said. "Shall we go now?"

He nodded, and helped her stand up. They walked arm-in-arm from the library.

He didn't know it then, but within a year's time, Alastor would come to think of November as his favourite month.

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This is my response to the "Five Chapters" challenge. Sorry it's taken ages to get around to it.

**Yes, I know. Another Hermione/Moody story. I don't care how farfetched a pairing it may be. I've put my reasons on my profile for thinking that they're not as bad as a different popular couple.**

**If anyone else ever writes a Hermione/Moody fic, please let me know. I'd love to read more of them, rather than just writing them.**

**So… how am I going so far with this challenge? Please review!**


	2. The Necklace

"The Necklace"

"Well, you're doing better than me."

"Have you ever actually _wanted_ romance, though?"

"Course not," Alastor said, stretching his legs out in front of him. They had just finished another game of scrabble. "But females prefer that sort of thing anyway."

"Ye-es," Hermione said, drawing out the word as she frowned. "And they like that sort of thing to come from males. Well, most of them do."

He snorted. "So you don't go in for all this stuff?"

"It's not that. I just told you. Viktor's the only person who's ever given me a Valentine's Day gift. Every fourteenth of February is just another year passing since then. And _that_ was in my fourth year!"

"Hmm. Whereas I've never been involved in Valentine's Day. At all. Except in my capacity as an Auror."

"Like another Valentine's Day massacre?"

"Something like that."

"Pity. That would completely ruin the mood of the day."

* * *

That had been the thirteenth of February. The next day was Saturday, which was very convenient for the older students, as they could go to Hogsmeade. Unfortunately, it also meant that the teachers had less control over them than if they were inside the castle.

Alastor was sitting in the Three Broomsticks, nursing a Firewhiskey, and keeping an eye on the students in there. He knew the moment Hermione entered the pub, and ordered a drink for her. She sat down beside him, and placed something on the counter. It was an envelope, and a box underneath it.

"Happy Valentine's Day," she said, giving him a special smile. He couldn't help but smile back, before realising something.

"I didn't get you anything."

"I've had a Valentine's present before. You haven't. Call this 'making it even'."

"That's not how things work, surely," he said, opening the envelope. Hermione seemed to deflate somewhat. He reached across her squeezed her arm. "But thanks." She blushed, but he didn't see it because he was reading the card. He turned his head, and smiled at her.

"I didn't know what to get for you, so I just went to Honeydukes," she said, nodding her head at the box of chocolates. "Don't worry. There are no love potions in them. I had to guess…"

"They're my favourites," he said. She looked sceptical. "Really. No fancy fillings, no weird shapes. Nothing complicated." He popped one into his mouth, and offered the box to Hermione. Obligingly, she took one. Alastor closed the box, and swallowed. "We can save the rest for later. Something to keep up our energy when playing chess."

"Good idea." She began to pull out her purse to pay for her drink.

"My treat."

"Are you sure, Alastor?"

"I ordered it for you."

"Thank you." She stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "See you later."

"Okay," he said, the wheels beginning to turn in his head. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt something strange on his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione, and realised that her lips were pressed against his skin. She pulled away, and he wondered why she was so red.

"Sorry," she said.

"Sure there wasn't anything in those chocolates?" he said jokingly.

"No. I'll… I'll see you later, Alastor." She hurried from the pub, and he went back to his original train of thought, absently stroking his cheek.

* * *

Box of chocolates beside them, Hermione and Alastor sat in a secluded corner of the staffroom, oblivious to the presence of the rest of the teachers. Hermione was painfully aware that everyone else knew about her crush on the DADA professor. She had gotten very good at pretending that the others weren't there.

"We're not playing for sweets, are we?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"No, but the sooner you win a game, the sooner you get your present," he said. She looked surprised.

"Present? What present?"

He smirked, and pulled out an envelope and a box. "Valentine's Day present."

"Oh, Alastor," she said, and she bit her lower lip. "I said you didn't have to…"

"I know. But you've been a great friend to me. I want to keep that up. This is my own way of saying thanks."

"Oh. Well, thank you."

"So. As I said, the sooner you win, the sooner you get this. Have the card first, though."

Hermione read it, blushing. He'd simply written her name above the message inside, and then 'Regards, A.M.' at the bottom. But she was pretending to herself that he actually meant the words, the sweet poem in the card.

"Shall we play, then?" he asked. She nodded.

The first game of chess went quickly, and Hermione won. She saw Alastor trying to hide a smile.

"You let me win."

"Yes. Now open this." He gave her the gift. Hermione pulled off the wrapping, and opened the velvet-covered box inside. She gasped, and looked up.

"A… Alastor…"

"Need some help putting it on?"

"Uh… All right." Shakily, she took out the golden necklace with red-and-gold lion pendant. The chain was delicate, and she was nervous about tackling the clasp blindly. Alastor stood up, and took the jewellery from her. He walked around to the back of her chair, and leant down.

"Hermione, could you move your hair?"

She lifted it out of the way. After a bit of manoeuvring, they managed to work together to get the necklace on. He began to make sure that it was sitting properly, and then realised what he was doing when Hermione shivered.

"Sorry," he muttered, and she turned around. "Uh, it looks nice. On you." He scratched his head. "I've, uh, got papers to mark. Night."

Hermione watched him hurry from the staffroom. She noticed the looks from the other teachers, and glared at them.

"Oh, shut up," she said, sitting back. Her eyes strayed from the game he had let her win, to the empty box of chocolates.

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Maudlin, but never mind. Forty percent of the way through now. Hope to see you all at the end!

**Does anyone need me to put in the words of the challenge? I can do that in the next post if you like.**

**Please review!**


	3. Foul Language

"Foul Language"

Hermione was down at Hogsmeade one day, to buy supplies for the infirmary. She wore her necklace out everywhere, no matter what other clothes she was in. It made her feel somewhat safer. Things had been different between them since Valentine's Day three months ago. Now, even as she saw him leaving the apothecary, she ducked her head.

"Morning, Granger," he said. Her steps faltered.

"Good morning," she replied, "Professor."

His head whipped around, but she was now walking into the shop. He decided to go and get a drink at the Hogshead.

He'd been thinking about his relationship… no, not relationship. His _friendship_ with Hermione. Whatever the hell it was. In desperation, he'd gone to Dumbledore.

"Why, Hermione is deeply in love with you, Alastor. For someone so perceptive, I must say that I am surprised that you needed to ask."

"She's _what_?" he had shouted. Then everything suddenly made sense.

From them on, he'd been trying to identify his own feelings for her. Finally, he had decided that it was attraction on his part. He was definitely attracted to her. There may have even been something more there. But until he was sure, he felt nervous about talking to her.

It never occurred to him that talking to her might have helped him work it out.

* * *

After making the purchases for Madame Pomfrey, Hermione had them sent to the school, and went to Aberforth Dumbledore's tavern. They'd never had a drink here. She went straight to the bar, and ordered a Firewhiskey. It wasn't her favourite drink in the world; but it reminded her of Alastor.

She choked on her drink when some of the bar patrons let out a cheer, and others let out a boo. They were listening to the international Quidditch semi-finals. The competing countries were Australia and Russia.

However, it sounded as though there was some debate over a move, causing several of the Russian fans to swear badly. She frowned. She had never heard Ron or Harry use such words, even when she had told them that she was becoming a Healer.

"Would you please keep it down?" she said. A couple of them yelled out obscenities at her. She glared at them, and drew her wand.

"Miss Granger, just leave it," Aberforth said, eyeing her nervously. "They are regulars…"

"Then shall I leave? Surely it makes you uncomfortable."

"They shouldn't speak to a lady like that," a familiar voice said. Hermione blushed, and turned around to face Alastor.

"Well, how many 'ladies' come to the Hogshead?" she said, and she slid off the bar stool. "I must return to Hogwarts. Good bye, Mr. Dumbledore." She threw some coins onto the counter, before opening the door. She made a face at another round of foul language, and slammed out of the pub. Alastor cast a spell over at the patrons crowded around the wizarding wireless. He also left the tavern, and ran after Hermione.

The tavern owner paused in shock when he saw what happened after yet another goal was debated. Each listener in the pub who swore turned into a chicken.

* * *

"Wait!"

Hermione's steps faltered, but she resumed her trek back to the school. She could feel the pounding of Alastor's footsteps; they matched her heartbeats.

"What is it?" she asked. He grabbed her arm as he caught up, and she ground to halt.

"Hermione, wait," he said. Her head turned quickly.

"Since when did you start calling me by name again?"

"Don't hate me." He held her hands tightly. "I'm sorry if I upset you…"

"_If_?"

"But I… Let me take you back to Hogwarts myself. Please." He offered her his arm.

"…All right."

As they walked, they were silent, until they reached the gates. Alastor held them open for her, and gave her a look of curiosity.

"You shouldn't have gone to the Hogshead. Why _were_ you there?"

She gazed up at his face. "It doesn't matter, Alastor."

"You sure?" She nodded.

"So why were _you_ in the Hogshead?"

He stroked a hair back from her face. "It doesn't matter." He offered her his arm. "How about game of scrabble when we get back? And then we can talk… if you like."

Hermione smiled. "That sounds just fine to me."

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Been watching "Return to Cranford", so I had to make sure that I wasn't writing their speech as though they were living in the Bonnet Era.

**The plot of this chapter has changed a few times, so I hope it is now to everyone's liking. I refuse to use bad language in my stories, which I thought might give me problems when it came to writing this. But imagination prevailed!**

**By the way, for those not used to puns, the people using 'foul' language were turned into 'fowl' themselves.**

**No need to groan at the joke. I know I'm terrible. As I'll often say to my mother, "I'm a wicked child, aren't I?"**

**Anyway, here are the rules of the challenge:**

**You pick five numbers between 1 and 200. Each of those numbers has a word or phrase, and these make up the five titles of a five-chapter-long story. They can be any pairing. I chose 2, 39, 6, 77, and 103. I fully intend to write four more, because I'm absolutely hooked on this challenge.**


	4. The Boundaries of Propriety

"The Boundaries of Propriety"

School was due to resume in only four days' time. It had been a long and complicated summer, with many nights of board games, and many nights of skirting around the issue that scared them both. Hermione discovered that the longer she went without telling him her feelings, the more her heart hurt. And Alastor discovered that he really was in love with her. It had taken just over nine months, but he found himself looking forward to every moment spent with her.

Their unspoken relationship grew during the holidays. Talking and laughing through meals; debating while playing scrabble, chess, cards, and whatever other game took their fancy; having drinks in Hogsmeade (steering clear of the Hogshead); and walking around the halls together whenever they had a break from school preparations. Hermione would help to plan classes, and Alastor would assist her and Professor Snape in brewing potions for the hospital wing.

It was during a stroll by the lake that they first held hands. The wind was blowing, and they were walking close together. Both wore short-sleeved tops, the soft skin of Hermione's right arm brushing against Alastor's muscled left arm. Somehow their fingers ended up entwined.

"I s'pose it's a good thing the first of September falls on a Friday this year," he said, breaking the companionable silence. "Give the students time to settle in before classes. They might be more receptive to working hard then."

"Might make the infirmary busy earlier on, though."

"Madame Pomfrey loves you. You're probably the best thing that's ever happened to her. We should all write a thank you letter to St. Mungo's, for letting you come here."

"All of you?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you all feel the same way?"

They stopped, and looked at each other. "I can't speak for everyone." He took her other hand in his, the same way. "But I'm grateful you're here. Weren't you the one who said that you can never have too many friends?"

"Something like that. But, Alastor," she stepped closer to him, "do you feel the same way as Madame Pomfrey?"

The corner of his mouth twitched. "No. Can't honestly say that I do." The hopeful look left her face, and she bowed her head. "But then, no one else can ever feel the same way that I do. About you." He tilted her head up, and started to lean down.

"Ehem."

"Damn it," he muttered, and they turned. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows at them.

"Albus wished for me to speak to you about your… friendship," she said. "When the students return, you will need to be discreet. And don't ask me about what, Hermione. I saw what was just about to happen."

"And yet it _didn't_ happen," Alastor said, trying not to tighten his grips on Hermione's hand After all, he didn't want to hurt the woman he loved. "So if you would kindly leave…"

"Bear in mind that you must set a good example for the students."

"Oh, it will be _very_ good," he said, his intense look devouring Hermione, who was blushing furiously, and avoiding making eye contact with the deputy headmistress.

"You know perfectly well what I mean, Alastor. If you and Hermione are to conduct some sort kind of relationship…"

"'If'? You mean 'when', doesn't she, Hermione?" The young woman nodded, and chewed on her lower lip. "See, Minerva?"

"Fine then. But please be careful. You must observe the boundaries of propriety…"

"We'll keep that in mind. Now leave us." He raised one hand, and released Hermione's bottom lip. Professor McGonagall sighed, rolled her eyes, and walked back to the school. At least they would finally be happy. Alastor didn't even notice her departure, though; he was too busy nuzzling Hermione's cheeks, pressing his lips to her nose, and finally meeting hers in a kiss.

"Oh, wow," she said, panting by the time he pulled back. "Do you know… how long I've… been waiting… for that?"

He chuckled. "Sorry. I've been… pretty dense, haven't I?" He stroked her cheeks.

"I begged them not to say anything."

"Who?"

"The staff."

"Clearly Albus Dumbledore thinks himself above promises."

"I… didn't actually tell him," she admitted. "Otherwise it would have been all around the school within twenty-four hours. I didn't want you to know, just in case… well, just in case you didn't feel the same way. Someone else must have told him. Either that, or he worked it out."

"The headmaster's damned observant. Surely you know that?"

"Yes, and you're _supposed_ to be just as observant. Can't you see why I was so nervous, especially around you?"

"It does explain a hell of a lot, I'll say that."

"But maybe this isn't the time for talking? We've only got four days left," she said. She raised a hand, and stroked Alastor's hair. "Can't we just make them last?"

He smiled, and nodded. As he slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her against his body, he started to plan how to ensure that they would have all the rest of their days together.

"Damn propriety," he muttered.

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One last chapter after this. Hope you've enjoyed this Hermoody fic. I do love to write them. But then, I just love writing in general, so there.

**Please go and check out my challenge in the forums!**


	5. Devotion and Desire

"Devotion and Desire"

November rolled around again. Alastor had gone to the same jeweller's in Hogsmeade where he had bought her Valentine's Day present, and got a matching ring. It was a plain gold band, but the same lion image had been carved into it, and the outline was tinted the same red as the pendant on the necklace. Now he just had to tempt Hermione into the library after hours, the place where all of this had started for him. It was either there, or in the staff room. But he wanted to propose somewhere relatively private, and the staffroom certainly didn't provide that. And even if he asked for it to be vacated, it would raise too many questions from the others.

"Can't we just be somewhere by ourselves tonight?" he whispered during dinner. "I'd invite you to my rooms, but that's hardly in keeping with being proper, is it?"

Hermione blushed. She did that a lot around her… could she possibly call Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody her boyfriend? Not really. "You're right. So where did you have in mind?"

"The library. Irma gave me the key. Just think—we can lock the students out." He winked. She choked on her pumpkin juice.

"Lock the students out?"

"After hours, Hermione. The shouldn't be there, anyway."

"I guess," she said. "Okay."

"I'll come and get you from your rooms. Give you time to dress up." His eyes moved over her body. She tilted her head.

"Dress up?"

"We'll be alone. I want everything to be romantic. Don't worry," he added when she raised her eyebrows, "I'll be in dress robes. And there'll be candles. The house elves can bring whatever food or drink you want."

"Sounds wonderful," she said, and she barely contained her smile as she finished dinner early, saving room for later.

* * *

Black dress robes on, Alastor went to Hermione's quarters, and knocked. When she answered, he found that he could hardly draw breath. She looked absolutely stunning; brown hair piled on her head, with no visible means of support; silky red dress with a slanted hemline; and the lion necklace. He had been surprised to find out that she always wore it, as she usually hid it underneath other clothes.

Just another of her attempts to conceal her feelings. Well, there hadn't been need of that since the end of August.

"You look…" He trailed off, unable to find the words. Many ran through his mind; but none could compare to her, live up to this image.

"So do you," she said, flushing prettily as she gazed at him in his tailored robes, uncharacteristically immaculate, but charming as ever.

"Not as much as you," he said, holding out an arm. "Coming?"

She nodded, and locked the door behind her. Linking her arm in his, she tried to steady her breathing as they walked to the library. There was something different about tonight; she could feel it. It had been one year precisely since they started playing board games; but if he was celebrating that, wouldn't they be going to the staffroom? He could have convinced the others to stay out if he'd _really_ wanted privacy there.

So what was going on?

* * *

The library was dimly lit, until they reached the section where Alastor usually sat when doing work, right near the medical textbooks. Extra floating candles surrounded the area, highlighting the table—which was smaller than usual—and the two chairs seated at opposite sides. He sat her down at one of them, and was about to summon a house elf when he stopped. Oh Merlin. He couldn't panic now.

No. It wasn't _exactly_ panic. It was more a case of getting it over with now.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I can't… I can't wait. I have to do this now."

"Do what?"

He pulled her chair out from the table, making it face towards him. He fumbled in his pocket, and knelt before her. Trembling fingers produced the ring box from his robes, and he could have cursed himself for not making eye contact with her. But he couldn't look at her. No. If she looked horrified he wouldn't be able to say it, and then everything would be even more awkward between them than if he actually had the courage to ask.

"Hermione…"

"Alastor, look at me."

"I can't."

"Then how will I know if you're sincere, or if you're just doing it because you think that it's the right thing to do."

"Of _course_ I'm sincere!" he barked, scowling up at her. She had tears falling from her eyelashes already, and immediately he felt guilty. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to make you cry. I just wanted to ask you… to ask if you'd marry me." He showed her the box. She glanced at it, and then back to him. "See? I even got you a ring. That's how sincere I am. Got it specially made." He opened it, and Hermione let out a sob when she looked at the band of gold inside. "A lion and… oh, hell. Forget about it, Hermione."

"How could I forget about this, Alastor?" she asked as he stood up, shutting the ring box with a snap, before thrusting it back into his robes.

"I could Obliviate you, if you want."

"Alastor Moody, you will _not_ Obliviate your fiancé, you hear? Damn it, I want to be able to put this memory in my Pensieve."

He blinked. "Fiancé? You _do_ want to marry me?"

"Of course I do," she said, dropping her voice as she also stood, placing her hands on his arms. "Alastor, I love you. You're all I want, all I've wanted for so, so long. Why would I not wish to be with you forever and ever?"

"I can't think of any reason I'd ever want to be parted from _you_," he said, stroking her cheeks to remove the tears. "Well, how about I make a memory worthy of your Pensieve, then?" He made sure she was sitting back in her chair, and then resumed his kneeling position in front of her. "Hermione Granger, the woman I'm madly in love with, will you be my wife?"

"Yes," she said, nodding frantically. Finally, he was able to slip on the ring, and then kiss the hand it adorned.

* * *

No matter how many wards the ex-Auror had put on the library, he had forgotten one thing: the ghosts could still get through the walls. They were all watching silently at the scene playing out before them. Then, as the kisses grew more heated, and progressed to various other… places, they all flew out into the hall, and looked at each other.

"It has indeed taken them long enough, has it not?" the Grey Lady said.

"The important thing is that they will be wed," the Friar added, frowning as he thought about the antics no doubt going on in the locked library.

"May their love never end, and their devotion and desire never wane," Sir Nicholas said, and they all agreed with the sentiment, before going to the staffroom to spread the word.

Well, they weren't the headmaster's spies for nothing, were they?

THE END

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Am currently having crackers, and crumbs are falling into my damnably long hair, which I washed this morning. I think it's finally dry, though it's frustrating that I'm getting bits of biscuit in it. Gaah! Blast it all…

**Anyway, your imaginations can stay in the library with them if you like. Right now, I'm signing off on this story, and shall (hopefully) soon move on to another one.**

**See you then, perhaps?**


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